


the burdens we bear

by kanoitrace



Series: In Regards to Life and Love [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode 11, Gen, Heart-to-Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 16:48:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8852668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanoitrace/pseuds/kanoitrace
Summary: Yuuri realizes JJ might be a lot more like him than first glance would lead him to believe, and maybe there's some comfort to be found in that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I had feelings, and I needed some JJ/Yuuri friendship fic because I was talking last night about the parallels between them and those were just reinforced with episode 11!

It's down the hallway and to the right from his and Victor's room that he sees JJ ambling towards him, seemingly unaware of Yuuri's presence. Yuuri hadn't even realized their rooms were on the same floor.

 

Flashes of JJ's short program crop up in his mind, and it honestly hurts Yuuri's chest slightly to think about it. Against all odds, he feels bad for the boy. That doesn't make the idea of interacting with him any easier, though. After all, Yuuri had been in his shoes a mere year ago, a fact which makes talking to JJ harder rather than easier. It's not like he can exactly tell JJ it'll get better; that's something Yuuri still isn't convinced has happened to him. It had seemed that way for awhile, but...

 

“Ah! Yuuri!”

 

Yuuri's attention snaps forward, focusing on JJ who is suddenly right in from of him, smiling in a way that doesn't seem to sit naturally on his face. He's lost his chance to get away.

 

“Ah, oh, uh, hello, JJ.” He averts his gaze, unable to quite make eye contact. It's not that he pities JJ, far from it in fact. It's simply that it's so terribly difficult to face what one considers their own inadequacies in someone else. After all, if JJ is not a failure (and he is not – he has made it to the top, stumbling or not, and he has the love and support of so many), how can Yuuri hold onto those same thoughts about himself. It's a glaring contradiction that the very thought of facing sets Yuuri's heart to racing and his skin to itching.

 

The two stand there, face-to-face in an empty hotel hallway, awkwardly avoiding looking at each other, and Yuuri can't help praying for someone to come along as a distraction, an excuse out of this situation.

 

It never comes. Instead, JJ clears his throat softly, though for the silence of the hallway, it may as well be a shout. “Congratulations,” he says quietly, and Yuuri's eyes snap up to his face in surprise. Surely he isn't mocking him? Not now, not after today. Yuuri can feel the nerves and insecurities crawling up from his stomach, through his chest, and into his throat. He clenches his hands to keep them from shaking. It doesn't work, of course, but it's something to focus on. Before the shameful tears come, though, he notices the faint, almost rueful smile on JJ's lips. It's the first expression he thinks he's ever seen on JJ that didn't look fake.

 

“I'm happy for you and Victor.” JJ isn't quite looking at him as he says it, but he seems earnest.

 

Yuuri unconsciously glances back the way he came, back to his room where Victor is showering. The day flashes through his head – his failure, and Victor's subsequent enthrallment with every skater after.

 

“Thank you,” he says, but it doesn't sound sincere to his ears. He looks down at the carpet, focusing on the indistinct shapes created in the swirls of the fabric.

 

They stand in silence once more. It's awkward and uncomfortable, and Yuuri just wants it to end, but he's unable to be rude to JJ. It had been easy last night, when everyone else was walking away too, but here....

 

Yuuri sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, worrying at the flesh. He bites at rough pieces of skin, places were his lips are chapped.

 

He thinks of chap stick, which leads to thinking of Victor, which leads to a sick feeling in his stomach.

 

He quickly stops chewing his lip and lets out a shaky breath.

 

“I'm sorry,” he says, because it's better to focus the skater in front of him than the one behind him. “I'm sorry for last night,” he says, because he doesn't want JJ to misunderstand, to think he's offering pity for today's results. “It was rude of us,” he says, because he remembers how alone he felt at last year's Grand Prix Final, and he thinks maybe JJ might feel similarly.

 

JJ laughs sheepishly, shifting from foot-to-foot. “Ah, no, it's fine. I shouldn't have said what I said, probably... Right? I just...” He trails off, but Yuuri thinks he knows, thinks he knows that maybe JJ just wanted to join in but just wasn't sure how. Yuuri has been there many times before, himself, after all.

 

Yuuri shakes his head and smiles sadly, glancing up at JJ through his lashes. “No, it's okay, I get it.”

 

JJ's smile melts off his face, and suddenly he looks so painfully young. Yuuri is reminded with a jolt that this is a boy who is only nineteen yet bears the burden of his nation's pride. They've always seemed so far apart when he looks at the leader boards, but Yuuri realizes now that maybe they are not so different after all.

 

His smile widens to something a little more reassuring, a little more reassured, and he says, “Congratulations on your engagement.”

 

JJ's face lights up in an instant at the mention of his fiancee. “Thank you!” he says, and the joy behind it is bright and unwavering.

 

“When are you getting married?” Yuuri asks because he'd much rather see JJ looking like JJ – happy and confident and ready for the world – than he would this sad, defeated teenager. Yuuri's knows that feeling, and he can't stand the thought of another under its thumb.

 

Unfortunately, the plan backfires as JJ's smile falls once more. “We'd planned after World's, but...”

 

Yuuri purses his lips, not sure what to say. It's another feeling he understands well. Far too well, at this exact moment.

 

“What about you and Victor?” JJ asks not unkindly.

 

Yuuri inhales; Yuuri exhales.

 

JJ seems to notice his mistake. “Ah. Right.”

 

Silence reigns again.

 

They stand in it; they languish in it, and Yuuri is just about to excuse himself when JJ speaks again.

 

“It's hard, isn't it?” He asks, but before Yuuri can ask for clarification, he carries on. “Not wanting to let them down, knowing you might.”

 

Yuuri remembers with obscene clarity that JJ's coaches are his parents.

 

“Yes,” he say, thinking of Victor back in their room. “It is.”

 

“They love us,” JJ says, but it sounds unsure, as though he's trying to remind himself, convince himself, that failing here doesn't mean losing that love.

 

Yuuri needs to same reminder, so he says, “They do.”

 

Yuuri watches as JJ sniffs, forcing back tears that suddenly begin gathering in his eyes. “Well, uh, nice talk!”

 

Yuuri smiles at him, the same smile he's given Yurio when the teen is being especially endearing, or the way he smiles at Yuuko's girls when they get scraped knees or fall on the ice. “Good luck, JJ,” he says. “You'll be fine.”

 

JJ looks at him in shocked surprise for a moment before he finally regains himself, smiling widely, happily, beaming in a way that's far better than his grin when he talks about JJ Style. “You too!” he says, and then he's walking past Yuuri, back to his room, his family, his fiancee.

 

Yuuri stands there a moment more. Idly, he lifts his hand to look at the ring there, admiring the way it gleams even in the lighting of the hallway. He thinks of Victor – of course he does – of how far he's come because of Victor's coaching, Victor's support, Victor's love. He thinks of his own inadequacies, the insecurity, the doubt. He thinks of how all these things clash and contradict – these parts he and Victor try to squeeze into simultaneously – and he agree with JJ. It's hard.

 

He flexes his fingers, makes a fist, opens it again, never looking away from the ring.

 

No matter what happens tomorrow, things are changing, he realizes. It's useless to pretend otherwise – hopeless and harmful, at that.

 

He's not good at these things, he thinks, these balancing acts between personal and professional, love and business. He can't expect himself to be, just as he can't expect Victor to not still yearn for the ice or be enthralled by other skaters or magically be good at knowing how best to support him.

 

He clenches his fist one last time before letting it fall back by his side.

 

One way or another, things are going to change; they have to change. It comes down to what has become more important to him these past eight months – Victor Nikiforov the living legend of figure skating? Or Victor the person?

 

He's sure he has his answer. He turns on his heel and walks to his room. He and Victor need to talk.

 


End file.
